


just to be quiet.

by amberwoods



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Post-Second War with Voldemort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:07:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26193895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amberwoods/pseuds/amberwoods
Summary: After the Second Wizarding War, Katie Bell becomes mute. She goes to therapy, of course, until she receives a particularly bruising assessment and refuses to go back. She never tells anyone why.Until Angelina comes back from studying abroad.
Relationships: Katie Bell/Angelina Johnson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	just to be quiet.

**Author's Note:**

> hi guys!!! this is written for the current hprarepairnet writing challenge on tumblr! I love this net with all of my heart, so I was happy to get something down for it. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

At first, it was a choice.

When she first went back to her regular life, nothing was wrong with her speech. She didn’t _like_ talking about the war, but it wasn’t hard to do, per se. It was just hard to find the right words. She wasn’t the only one with this problem, and the British wizard society practically exploded with initiatives in which people could express themselves and their trauma in different ways. Creative writing, arts… Some of her friends took up painting. Alicia was really into slam poetry for a while. Katie just kept giving her heart and soul to Quidditch.

Things were easier on the field. She felt more alive. She had no intention of going pro, or anything, but she loved playing. It was an outlet. When she was out there chasing those points, the war couldn’t hurt her for a little while. So every time someone tried to talk to her about it and she struggled to find her words, she went out to the field instead.

One day, she realised that she couldn’t… She _couldn’t_ talk about the war anymore. When she tried, her throat seized up, and she couldn’t get her vocal cords to work. It was like the subject emptied her of words altogether.

It was scary, at first, but it was _so_ easy to ignore… All she had to do was stop trying. She was far from the only person who was dealing with the war by trying to put it behind her. No one realised something else was happening. She didn’t realise it herself either.

She’d always been quiet, and working as a magical engineer meant that she didn’t have to communicate verbally at her work much. Before long, she just fell silent. By then, she knew it wasn’t a choice anymore. But it took her a little while longer to admit it.

Her parents freaked out. She complacently let them sign her up for all kinds of therapy, and bore it all for a few months. Nothing worked.

She started obsessing over words like a person with an eating disorder can obsess over calories. She hoarded them. She listened to people as much as she could – podcasts, audio books, videos… She wrote them down. She wrote _so much_ down. Her third therapist thought that might be the key. It wasn’t.

She had a secret that she couldn’t tell anyone else.

She stopped going to therapy after a particularly bruising assessment by her fifth therapist. She refused to tell anyone what had been said, no matter how much her parents begged her to explain. She put her foot down. They were devastated, but they didn’t want to lose her, so they tried to make their peace with it, living for the hope that perhaps, in a few months, they could try again. When those months started adding up to a full year, they reluctantly started learning sign language. They still couldn’t accept that this was their new normal.

Katie’s obsession started dying down a little bit. She had started spending less time on the Quidditch fields over the months, and now she picked that up again. She felt the wind in her hair and the rain on her face and she felt a little more like herself again.

It was around that time that Angelina came back into her life.

Angelina had gone to study abroad after the war; her own way of dealing with the fall-out, Katie supposed. She needed distance from the scene of the crime to process it all. That was alright. She’d always said she’d return someday, and Katie had believed her.

They kept in touch, at first, but soon their communication was sparse. It wasn’t until Angelina came back to Britain that she realised the full extent of Katie’s speech impediment.

It had been partially deliberate from Katie’s side. It was nice to have someone not constantly worry about her. Being mute seemed to have turned into a sign on her forehead that said ‘seriously unstable’.

Letting Angelina see the full extent of it was hard, and she flinched when she caught her surprised and worried expression. She steeled herself for the inevitable questions – for the underlying current of awkwardness that most of her communication with other people now had.

The questions didn’t come. Angelina processed this new development quietly. After a few minutes, in which Katie was wildly trying not to let her eyes tear up, Angelina smiled at her and changed the subject. She leaned into yes-or-no questions. She paid close attention to Katie’s mannerisms and expressions. Fifteen minutes later, Katie was crying after all, from sheer relief. Angelina just laughed – that bright, loud, free laughter that Katie had adored so much at Hogwarts – and wiped away Katie’s tears.

She wasn’t the first person to show Katie some understanding – far from it. Some of her colleagues had been great about things (Michael Corner especially) and Alicia had definitely stumbled her way through learning to adapt to Katie’s new form of communicating. But, somehow, the fact that this was _Angelina_ made things different. More important.

_I’ve missed you so much,_ she realised in that moment, staring at her. It made her flush. She wasn’t ready to acknowledge that.

Still, she wasn’t surprised when she woke up from a nap one day, sprawled across Angelina’s lap in the summer sun, and realised that she was in love with her.

It seemed almost inevitable. The sky was blue, you had to wake up from every single nap, and Katie Bell was in love with Angelina Johnson.

They spent most of their time together at that point. After two consecutive months of sleeping on Katie’s couch (barring five or six nights where they’d crammed into Katie’s one-person bed), Angelina decided she might as well move in. Katie had no objections.

She was already in so deep when Angelina finally started asking questions.

“Why did you stop going to therapy?” she asked softly one night.

Katie froze and, in very quick succession, felt betrayed, stupid and then embarrassed. Had she really thought this moment wouldn’t come?

They were sitting on the couch together. Katie had her legs draped across Angelina’s lap, but she pulled them away at her question so she could pull them up and hide her face against her knees.

She shook her head.

Angelina sighed. “Katie. You haven’t talked to anyone about this. That’s not right.”

She shook her head again, a little frustrated, and lifted up her head to glare at Angelina.

Angelina didn’t budge. She just stared her down until Katie’s shoulders drooped.

Finally, Katie shifted on the couch, crossing her legs underneath her to free her arms so she could sign more easily.

_It wasn’t working,_ she signed.

“Do you have any idea why?”

Katie’s secret stared her in the face. So big, so shameful. She couldn’t keep the tears from welling up. When Angelina saw, she scooted over to her and put a hand on her knee.

“It’s okay,” she said softly.

Angelina flinched when Katie pulled away from her, but she was just reaching over to the coffee table to grab a notepad and a pen. She sat up straight again and took a deep breath. Angelina didn’t put her hand back and Katie missed the heat immediately.

She stared at the paper. She wasn’t sure how to sign this properly. But she wasn’t sure how to phrase this properly either. But…

She looked up at Angelina, beautiful and sincere, waiting patiently for her answer. She had been waiting for months.

Katie took up the pen.

_She said that no one would be able to help me talk again if I didn’t actually want to._

And there it was. The big secret.

Therapy didn’t work, because every single therapist she’d seen was trying to get her to open her mouth and speak. Katie played along, and she tried, but she couldn’t, because she didn’t really _want_ to. Her obsession with words, her desperation, it wasn’t because she wanted to speak but couldn’t: it was because she didn’t _want_ to speak ever again, and that scared her.

She handed Angelina the notepad.

Everyone was trying to heal her. First and foremost, their goal was to get her to speak again. It was what she _should_ want, that much was clear. Being mute was a sign that something was seriously wrong with her. Being mute was a defect. She had to speak. She _had_ to speak.

Angelina’s eyes widened as she read the sentence and Katie ripped the notepad out of her hands again, suddenly needing to tell her more. Angelina leaned over to watch her hand as she wrote.

_I never wanted it enough. But I_ had _to want it. That’s what they all said. That’s why I couldn’t. I tried to force myself to want it. It didn’t work. Nothing worked._

“Katie,” Angelina stammered.

She took Katie’s hands into her own, drawing her gaze back up to hers. She was still crying. One of her tears hit the paper.

Angelina took the notepad and put it back on the coffee table. Then she took Katie’s hands into her own once again. Softly, she caressed the back of her hands with her thumb.

“You don’t have to speak, Katie.”

Katie’s eyes widened when she heard the words. Something inside of her started to knit itself back together.

“Katie,” Angelina said again, her name an answer on her tongue instead of the endless question it had become, “You never have to speak again.”

Katie’s few tears turned into a torrent. She choked out a sob.

Angelina shook her head, astonished at the weight that her best friend had been carrying on her shoulders. She leaned over to pick Katie up, pulling her onto her lap and wrapping her in her embrace. Katie put her full weight into the hug, pressing her wet cheek against Angelina’s perfect collarbone.

How long had she wanted someone to tell her that? Since the start? Since before it even happened?

Why did she have to speak? Why did she have to want it so badly? Why wasn’t this okay too?

Of course she wanted it to be a choice. But she was pretty sure the only reason she was physically _incapable_ of speaking is because people expected her to do it. And in this moment… In this moment…

She still didn’t want to speak. But she was pretty damn sure that right now, _she_ _could_.

She brought up her hands to sign a clumsy _thank you_.

Angelina laughed and pressed a kiss against her crown. “You’re welcome.”

She hesitated for a moment, and then kissed her head again, more slowly this time. “You’re perfect, Katie,” she added softly.

Katie let out a whimper and reached up. She put her hand onto Angelina’s cheek and angled her head up.

This time, Angelina didn’t hesitate. She brought her face down and pressed her lips against Katie’s.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading folks!!


End file.
